Trouble Me
by the-bird-flies
Summary: Neji, Tenten, and the what-ifs of the world.


She kissed him, once, she remembers that—in a dream, when she was naked and he was just a face, she kissed him on the lips and told him that she loved him, but he was gone and she was left alone. In that dream she sat down in the rain and let her hair down and it fell and fell and fell until it was a river and there was nothing left but this waterfall of mahogany, reaching out towards his sea, ocean of mother of pearl, ocean of deep, dark chestnut. In the dream, she melts away, away into him, but she does not find him there.

The only times she has ever touched him is when they train, and then it is nearly like love, this sweating, panting, bleeding mess they are. Sometimes she wins, sometimes she doesn't, but each time she peels a little more of him away, his movements, his grace, until he is nothing but a column of brilliance before her eyes, and she is blinded. That time he beats her, throws her to the ground, and then pulls her up, hands connected for only a second. She looks at him, his image still burning in her retinas, and he asks her why she did that, why she shut her eyes and shielded them when he wasn't even attacking her. She shrugs.

"The sun got in them. I couldn't see."

"You have to watch out for that," he tells her, tone sharp and almost worried. "You'd be dead if we were really fighting."

"I know." She rewraps her hands, checking her knives, and then sees that he is still looking at her. "What?"

He shakes his head and walks away. Over his shoulder he calls back, "Lee wants us all to come to dinner tonight. The Sakuranbo. I'll pick you up at seven."

"You don't need to," she tells him, jogging past him towards the gates of the training ground. "I'm capable of walking myself."

"I know. But Lee will give me hell if you show up alone."

"Fine. Seven it is. Wear something nice."

"Same to you."

He will never know, but she chooses her clothes for him, picking them carefully out and laying them down. Her Mandarin dress, high collar and slits, no sleeves, the silver embroidery standing out against the blue. She pulls her hair back, puts it up in it's customary buns, and, out of habit, slips senbon into them, to accompany the knives on the insides of her thighs. He is there at exactly seven, and she opens to door, picking up her purse.

"You look nice," she says. He nods. "Did Hinata dress you?"

"I am perfectly capable of dressing myself."

"But not at talking to girls." He looks at her, quizzical, and she raises her eyebrows. "Now is the time you compliment me on my exquisite taste in clothing, and make up. Not that I'm wearing any. But if I were really your date, I would be shutting the door in your face by now."

"If you were really my date, you wouldn't be so fickle."

"Yoohoo! Calling Hyuuga-san off his high horse! The world wants to speak with you! It wants to say there's a reason you're still single!"

"Don't call me that," he says and she laughs.

"Take me away, Neji-kun."

"Or that."

"Oh, Neji-chan."

He heaved a great sigh. "Can't you just call me Neji?"

"Can't you just complement my dress?"

"Fine. It looks lovely."

She frowns as they walk down the road. "Oh, try for some genuine feeling, at least. Neji."

"It does. Really. I've always liked that one a lot."

She doesn't say anything, doesn't mention that she's never worn it before, that it was her mother's, the only thing passed down to her, and that she tried it on for the first time three weeks ago, in her room. If he does watch her, she's not going to call him out on it, although she is going to reinstall the traps in her apartment.

Dinner is raucous—anything with Gai and Lee is—and she laughs a lot, happy for this unity, this perfection again. They are one of the only teams left whole—Team Seven is disintegrated, none of its members left alive, Team Eight has only two members left; Team Ten lost its teacher long ago. Finally the restaurant closes and they go their separate ways, Neji walking her home again.

They take the park way this time, long, winding paths and trees painted black by shadow. She swings her purse, walking slightly ahead of her companion, thinking and not thinking, breathing in the summer night scents. Someone, somewhere, is playing a violin, sweet and lonely, and she stops to listen, causing him to bump into her, lost in his own mind.

"Tenten," he says, but she doesn't move. She can feel his breath on her cheek and she wants to memorize the feel of it, to lean in and drink it away, but she doesn't, because she's not that kind of girl

"Dance with me," she says suddenly, not looking at him. His face, dark with night, is visible out of the corner of her eye and she doesn't dare to wonder what he thinks, waiting for his answer, sure to be mocking…

"Okay."

A hand is on her waist, pulling her close, and the other takes one of hers, raising them up in the air. She puts her hand on his shoulder and they begin to dance, him leading, she following, a waltz. Laughter bubbles up inside her and she smiles, wondering if he can see.

"Imagine—Hyuuga Neji, ballroom dancer extraordinaire."

"Well, I am a Hyuuga. We have to know how to act in all occasions."

She giggles and then they subside into silence. The song is sad and she feels a sudden ache in her chest. Leaning in closer, she puts her head on his shoulder—she has always been tall—and lets herself meld into him, pretend that they are what they cannot be, two people, just dancing, just living. The stars come out as the sky clears and she can see their hands, entwined, reaching out for something else, something other than what they have.

The music stops, a final note ringing away into nothing, but he doesn't let go and they stand, held together. As one, their arms draw back in to their bodies and his wraps around her, enclosing her, caging her. She holds him, carefully, not wanting to crush feathers, though why she thinks that she doesn't know.

"What if we weren't?" She asks, suddenly.

"Weren't what?" His voice is soft, like moonlight, and she closes her eyes.

"Weren't this. Weren't us. What if we were just two people, two normal people."

"Then I would marry you."

She pauses for only a second before she answers. "And we would be happy."

"Yes. But we aren't."

She nods.

"And I won't."

"I know."

"Because I couldn't bear to lost you."

And, she realizes, it's enough, this knowledge that they might have been, if he weren't a Hyuuga and she wasn't an orphan and they weren't ninja and going to die soon. It's enough to have something that else that she can dream about, in the daylight and the nightdark, when the world just doesn't feel right, because somewhere they are there, two people, and they can do whatever they want. So they leave it there, that night, and they break apart and walk home and he doesn't stay and she never kisses him, except in her dreams, except in a world where she can, and that's alright, because someday they're going to be born again and then…

…and then the world won't stand in their way.

11111111

A/N:

:rises from her coffin: It's _aliiiiiive!! _Yes, I still exist. Hello, world!

I've never written for these guys, before, not like this at least. I like it. I couldn't think of a title so I called it by the song I'm currently listening to on repeat, _Trouble Me, _by 10,000 Maniacs. It's an awesome song.

Enjoy.

TBF


End file.
